Isn’t it time for you to get back to college? Don’t you have some books to buy or some roommate to charm?
Bullets are just another reason I am done with other people’s laundry.
The archaeology of doing laundry lost its charm for me some time in the last 20 years and I don’t ever expect it to come back, even for grandchildren.
I no longer care to wonder if the pulpy lump in a pocket was previously an important piece of paper, or if the feathers are from a live thing or a “specimen.”
No more mystery sand in winter months or chewing gum or clay blobs that might signal a ruined towel or five.
Hopefully never again will I uncover a mate-less earring that should have been tucked away safely with the rest of my jewelry.
Plunging a hand into a machine only to be met with sharp objects or things that might, under the proper conditions, go boom is not for me.
I will miss all the soggy cash, but it was never enough.